Immoral Fantasies
by StarkContrastStartles
Summary: Tony and Ziva are undercover in a rundown motel. Emotions run high and the fantasies are conjured up by any object on which sex would be possible. Constant Tiva, almost no case details, lots of dirty sex and immoral fantasies. Definitely M rated.
1. Sex In The Shower

**I promised a Tiva sex story et voila! Hope you enjoy.**

Tony and Ziva argued all the way down the dirt tracks to the obscure motel out in the country. Tony insisted on driving so Ziva took it upon herself to criticise every mistake he made and Tony retaliated by likening every tree, house, bird to a movie. Tempers threatened to flare up with potential disastrous consequences. However, both had become skilled in the art of keeping the irritation to a maximum level although it was sometimes excruciatingly difficult. By the time they arrived, Tony was red in the face and Ziva had sharp edges to her eyes. They slammed the doors and stalked side by side through the chipped door. The bored looking receptionist looked startled as they jostled each other in the doorway. Her eyes flicked from the exotic beauty to the chiselled muscle and her eyes widened at the sight of the attractive, playfully arguing couple. The motel was shabby and obviously attracted older, coarser people.

'Grant Motel, how may I help?' she intoned, her eyes searching their body language for clues.

'We have reserved a room,' Ziva explained quickly, cutting Tony off before his open mouth could produce any sound.

The receptionist smirked knowingly at Tony and inquired sweetly, 'Name?'

Ziva kept her mouth determinedly shut and ignored the tense pause as Tony waited for her to speak. Finally, he gave in. 'Marks,' he stated, the word rolling awkwardly off his tongue. He had rarely used a fake name since his time undercover with Jeanne and he had not yet recovered the ease with which he had been able to lie effortlessly. Ziva gave the receptionist a sweet smile and Tony bit back a scowl. Ziva was so much better at undercover than him and she wasn't hiding the fact that she knew it.

'One room?' the receptionist asked, badly disguising the images this conjured up in her head.

'Yes,' Tony snapped, noticing the dreamy look in her eyes. He had been tense ever since Gibbs had told them of their newest task and even tenser when Vance had decided that one room was the only way to make their stay realistic. 'Is anything odd about that?' he inquired bitingly.

The once genial receptionist looked taken aback by this outburst. A frown took over her face and increased the depth of the over tanned wrinkles on her forehead. She did not hide her scowl and it remained on her face for the rest of the exchange.

'You did not pay in advance.' She pouted her lips sulkily at his lack of willingness to pull out his credit card. 'You need to pay.'

Tony clenched his jaw and pulled out his hastily made credit card. He slapped it down on the counter and returned the woman's scowl. She eyed it suspiciously and gingerly lifted it up. Ziva rolled her eyes at this melodramatic display and shifted her feet impatiently. The woman made no attempt to quicken her movements and Ziva's temper gradually worsened. Tony groaned inwardly, praying that she would not take it out on him later. He really did not want to get this weekend off to a bad start.

The receptionist eventually completed the transaction and returned the card to his owner. She turned around and waddled over to the rack of keys behind her, giving both guests a prime view of her flabby body, barely concealed by her slack clothing, hiding a flatulent rear end. Tony removed his eyes from the unsightly view and raised them to the key rack. He ran his eyes over the empty hooks, trying to memorise the room numbers. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ziva doing the same albeit almost definitely more successfully. One of those rooms contained a murderer. 'Room 13,' the receptionist squawked sulkily. Tony snatched the key out of her hand and practically pulled Ziva out of the foyer.

They made their way to their room in companionable silence, neither wanting to unleash the other's annoyance generated by the horny, petulant woman. They found their room easily but unlocking the door proved to be more difficult. Tony's first two attempts to stick the key into the lock failed and Ziva tried to push him out the way to allow her nimbler fingers to do their magic but he objected vehemently to this interruption and insisted on completing the tricky task. After a few minutes, Ziva sank to the floor, resting her weary back against the unpainted wall and staring at the cracks in the ceiling. Tony continued to fiddle with the key until finally admitting defeat. Ziva straightened up and slipped the key into the lock and twisted it. Tony's mouth twitched but he fought his scowl, reluctant to give Ziva the opportunity to compare him to the obnoxious receptionist.

The room was barely furnished and the decor was shabby. The picture was a stark contrast to their lavish suite on their previous undercover assignment. Tony wrinkled his nose in disgust and waited for Ziva's torrent of complaints but she seemed fairly contented with the poor surroundings so he did the honours, desperate not to get sunk into another argument or, worse still, awkward silence.

'Bit rundown, don't you think?' he asked.

She shrugged. 'It's not so bad,' she replied, making her way into the bathroom. Tony hesitated but, when she did not shut the door, followed her in. He found her peering around the half-fallen shower curtain into the discoloured bath.

'It's only a weekend,' he said, trying to match her unbothered attitude. 'We don't need a shower.'

At this, she pursed her lips and regarded him with trepidation. 'If you are to stay in the same room as me, you must take a shower,' she informed him.

'It doesn't look to clean,' he protested.

She smirked slightly before straightening her face. 'Will you need some help?' she teased.

Tony's heart fluttered at the suggestion, even if it had been said in jest, it conjured up some alluring images of the two squashed into the shower. The picture he was imagining took place in the already dirty shower because that seemed to be where Ziva's sexual aggression would be most at home which allowed him to concentrate on her rippling naked body. His arms snaked around her slippery body and the water acted as a lubricant as he entered her. She moaned into his ear, the erotic sound muffled by the roar of the water. His body was backed into the cold tiles on the wall as her aggression revealed itself. Her body arched and her hips pounded against him. He came first, a growl of pleasure emitted from his lips at his climax, and he freed his fingers from their trap between the two tightly pressed bodies to trace her left butt cheek. His hand completed the circuit and cupped the whole cheek, pushing her further into him, and him deeper into her core. She climaxed with a deafening scream which tore through him.

Her voice broke into his vivid fantasy and dragged him out into the comparatively disappointing reality. 'You do not strike me as a clean person, Tony,' she mused. 'Why are you so revolted by this shower?'

His chest constricted as he thought up a suitable answer to this intuitive jibe. 'I may not be tidy, Ziva, but I don't like filth,' he answered lamely.

She snorted and slapped his cheek playfully. She had seen his mind disappear momentarily and she had some idea where it had gone. Truthfully, it had taken all her willpower not to imagine the same thing, but she managed to summon the required strength to control her mind since it seemed too intimate to both imagine the same compromising situation at the same time, it would be almost as if they were actually doing it. Her cheeks threatened to flush at this thought so she spun around and left him alone staring into the dingy bathtub.

She delved into her small bag, focusing her wandering mind on practical matters to prevent it from visualising erotic scenarios with her partner. His hands roamed her exposed body freely and his lips nipped at the tender flesh above her breasts. Her hand made its way down the muscular chest to reach the top of his manhood. Her fingers danced lightly down its erect length to trace the tip. She guided it towards her groin and let out a moan of ecstasy as he dived into her. Her breasts pressed up against his heaving chest and his hands cupped them, and it was his turn to let out a strangled gasp as her hard nipples pressed into his thumbs. His mouth found hers and their tongues slipped through parted lips to taste the other mouth. She grinded energetically against him, her legs winding their way around his waist until she was lifted off the ground. She arched her back, pressing him deeper into her and her eyes closed and rolled back beneath the lids in sheer exultation. She could feel his body tense and she could her from his growing cries that he was about to peak. She pulled away from him and her body supported itself once more. She dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth, relishing his taste; a salty, sweaty tang. He came the instant she began to service him and her mouth wrapped itself around him. His hands were entwined in her hair and his head was thrown back to release the pressure of the gratification she was providing. She pulled her head back and gulped in some much needed air: her head was becoming quite light headed. She straightened up and thrust him back into her vagina. She raised her hands to his jaw line and her tongue ran along it. His head pushed into hers and coated her skin with lavish kisses, working his way down to her stomach. She looked down and almost drooled at the sight of him squatting on the shower floor, his tongue racing in circles on her flat stomach, sending ripples of bliss up and down her body.

Four years ago, she would have had no trouble voicing these fantasies as taunts but the relationship had progressed past the meaningless banter stage and, if said, would have more serious connotations and detrimental effects to the atmosphere between them as they both reflected on the banter.

Once she had gone, he allowed his imagination full rein of his mind, and it became filled with naked, dancing Ziva's rubbing her hands up and down his body, the water running in rivulets down her spine and lapping at her dainty feet. He could almost feel her wet hair whipping against her chest and her stomach rubbing against his as she melded into him. It was all he could do to stop himself from raising his hands and moving them about in the air, acting on his fantasy with an imaginary Ziva. His throbbing penis was the only part of his body still heavily grounded in reality, reminding him where he was. If he had been alone in his own bathroom he would allow these thoughts to run rampant initially before quenching them before they got too graphic and diving into a cold shower. Ziva's body was warm, as she had proved so often; pressed against him in the elevator, breathing hot air down his neck from behind, her hand brushing up against his momentarily as they were thrown together by the break neck momentum of the car with Gibbs behind the wheel. The only place he was safe from his horny desires was under the icy blast of his power shower.

Ziva stepped backwards as she pulled her head from inside her bag and the floorboards creaked loudly. Tony remembered her closeness and struggled to regain control of his mind. Ziva would be suspicious if he hopped into the shower so soon after complaining about its state so he compromised with a virtual cold shower in his head. He concentrated all his efforts into relaxing his taut penis and did not realise that he was contorting his body just as if he was actually in the shower.

Ziva stared at him incredulously from her vantage point in the bedroom. She opened her mouth to snap him out of his trance but realised that the strange dance he was doing was rather enticing so restricted her shout and satisfied herself with leaving it agape. Tony's hands ran down his sides and through his hair, his body swaying side to side rhythmically. His movements were not defined, he was barely moving in fact, but they were easily perceptible and his palpitations were smooth and recognisable. She stifled a giggle as she realised that he was in the shower. The show lasted only a few moments before she released her pent up amusement and snorted. Tony's eyes jerked open and he stared at his hands resting on his hipbone in horror.

Slowly, his eyes followed the sound of the laughter and he grimaced at the sight of his partner convulsed with deep guffaws. He dropped his arms to lie by his side and blushed crimson. He turned around and glanced in the grimy mirror above the chipped sink. He twisted the tap and cupped his hands underneath the spluttering spurt of water, splashing it gratefully on his face. He took a deep breath before joining the now recovered Ziva in the bedroom.

She regarded him with interest, genuinely unsure what the purpose of his enactment was. She raised her eyebrows curiously and he finally let a scowl take prominence on his mouth. It suited him much better than the hag behind the desk and Ziva noted this.

They stood in silence for a while before Ziva broke the tension. 'I'm not judging you,' she remarked. 'It was quite entertaining really.'

Tony let his eyes wander down a crack on the wall to rest on her face. 'I was imagining...' he paused. 'Psycho. The shower scene. Janet Leigh and Anthony Perkins. Good film.' He paused again, studying her face for disbelief. 'I guess I got a little carried away,' he finished truthfully.

She nodded, a smile filling her face. 'I would have to agree with that.' He couldn't tell whether she had believed him or whether she just accepted the explanation to kill the rigidity of the mood. Whichever it was, he was grateful for the easy way out of the difficult situation and he warmed up to her in reality for the first time since they arrived. He glanced at his watch and, although it was only six o'clock, suggested they go down for dinner. As they began to prepare to go down, both sneaked quick glances into the bathroom, and both coloured at their shamelessness when the two writhing bodies appeared similarly in both imaginations.

**PS. I have never had sex in a shower so I do not know what is possible. All this should be but if anything is unrealistic please tell me.**


	2. Sex On Top Of The Bar

The cafe in the motel looked dirty but, since there was no other option, the pair went in. Compared to her nonexistent reaction to the state of the room, Ziva's disgust at the grease in the food was violent.

'It is disgusting,' she told him flatly. 'I won't eat it.'

'There is nowhere else, Ziva,' he rationalised. 'You have no choice.'

'It is disgusting,' she repeated stubbornly. 'And unhealthy,' she added, glancing at his protruding stomach.

'Go for a longer run in the morning, then. You didn't object to the room, why are you complaining now?'

She scowled and snapped back, 'I have been in many dirtier rooms in my life but I am more accustomed to tiny amounts of food than this greasy...' she floundered, unsure what the phrase was.

'Greasy spoon,' Tony finished. 'It is an American experience. You have to try it at least once.'

'Tony, with you everything is an American experience,' she complained. 'And, now that I am an American citizen surely I no longer need these 'experiences' to be a proper American.'

Tony digested this opinion for a second before guiding her firmly towards a table. 'You'll need more than a piece of paper to make me believe that you are a real American,' he replied.

'Maybe if you had come to my ceremony, you would have seen for yourself,' she retorted shortly.

Tony flushed and fell silent. The meal passed quickly; Tony likening the diner to various film scenes, Ziva frequently wrinkling her nose at the saturated chips placed in front of her. The conversation dwindled towards the end of the meal but they kept their eyes open for any likely suspects. Ziva left half her food in a greasy heap on her plate and ushered Tony to finish as well. Once they had added the bill to their tab and looked around again to check that no new person had entered, they left.

Standing in the cold car park, Tony realised that he would need alcohol to get him through the night, sleeping next to a scantily clad Ziva in a small bed, so he directed her towards the bar across the way.

The musty bar was deserted except for a solitary wiry man clutching a packet of cigarettes protectively. Tony and Ziva eyed him warily and opted for the safer approach of ignoring him. They alighted the bar stools and waited for the elderly man in the back room to notice them. Tony suddenly wondered what he was meant to order. They were on duty so technically it should be water, but they did not want to stand out and look suspicious. When the frail man appeared in front of them, waiting patiently, he gestured at Ziva to go first, feigning politeness.

She hesitated slightly before answering and when she did there was some uncertainty tainting her soft accent. 'Beer, please,' she requested.

'The same,' Tony added, grateful for her experience in these situations. However, all gratitude towards her vanished when she raised the beer bottle to her lips, making it immensely difficult for him to stay composed. Her lips parted and she slipped the damp glass between them, her eyes closing as she raised her arm. Her throat bobbed as she drank and the corners of her mouth curled upwards appreciatively. She drew the rim of the bottle out of her mouth but left her lips open, moist and begging him to kiss them.

His mind clouded over and his bottle was left untouched on the counter. He could see his tongue delving into her mouth, could taste the beer, and feel the warmth emanating from her. His arms wrapped themselves around her waist and he pulled her onto his lap. Her legs straddled him and forced her body up against his.

Her breasts were just beneath his chin and, if he strained his eyes, he could down her shirt. _Worth dying for, _he muttered under his breath. He glanced back up and saw deep, chocolate eyes waiting to see the rest of him. He obliged graciously and allowed her hands to slip up his shirt. Her fingers danced on his chest, running through his controlled chest hair. He copied her movements, running his own, larger fingers up her back and underneath her bra strap.

She leant into him and kissed his neck, giving him a clear view of the now empty bar. They were alone and both angling for sex. Her lips descended down to his torso, his shirt flung into the corner. Her shirt joined it and her bra was soon unclasped and dangling from her shoulders. She had moved off his lap and was sitting on the counter, alcohol forgotten. She was bent double, her mouth reaching the waistband of his jeans. His stomach still tingling from the trail of kisses, she fiddled with the stiff button. Her hands yanked his fly down impatiently and he was reminded of her yanking it up just as forcefully in the bathroom.

She swung her legs onto the counter and he pulled himself up next to her, leaving his jeans in a crumpled heap on the floor. While his mouth was busy sucking on her breasts alternately, his hands were stroking her leg underneath her skirt. The tip of his index finger slipped underneath the lacy edge of her thong and he gasped as it collided with her folds. After a cautious glance to get permission, he inserted his finger gently into her clit, rubbing it delicately. She moaned into his ear and he began to throb persistently. She mumbled his name and the circular movements inside her vagina speeded up passionately.

She removed her tongue from inside his mouth and relocated it further south. His cotton boxers were pushed down to the crook of his knees and her tongue ran lightly around his head. He felt her mouth leave the tip of his dick and he grunted, displeased by the end of the action. He rolled over so that she was underneath but she by no means became submissive. Her hips ground into his and he penetrated her with a quick downward motion. She gasped out and their lips crashed together once more. 'Harder, harder,' she begged and he obediently satisfied her.

His foot was waving about in the air, taking some of the pressure off his painful erection now suitably happy. He clenched his toes and tensed his muscles, joining her in the elated screams. Only when his foot hit the whisky lever, did his yells subside. He cried out and realised with a jolt that the pain was real this time.

Ziva noticed the faraway look return to his eyes and rolled her eyes, though secretly the possibility of him sexually fantasising about her made her both hot and wet. She took another swig from her bottle, relishing the cool liquid slipping down her throat. And then, to her horror, the bottle became Tony and the refreshing liquid his semen.

Oral sex had always appealed to her, especially when she was sore from fighting. It gave her the control over the situation and sometimes gave her the much needed chance to forget about his face. However, with Tony, she did not need to pretend he was handsome for he already was, so the blow job was all about pleasure. She growled passionately as he became erect in her mouth and her lips tightened around him. He ejaculated once more and she could feel him throbbing. Her hands were resting on his thighs and she could feel them tense with the pain she was inflicting on his mind so she pulled herself off him.

Her back straightened and she placed her lips gently on his, their tongues colliding and pulling apart. The kiss lasted almost no time at all for the desire for immediate sexual gratification made them both breathless.

Unfortunately, Ziva never got to satisfy this wish for her daydream was shallow and easily broken by the bartender replacing her empty bottle. She sighed and glanced at Tony through the corner of her eye. He was still embedded in his illusion; his eyes clenched shut and his trousers bulging at the crotch. She grinned and returned to her beer, not allowing her mind to wander but desperate to drink away the disappointment of her shattered dream. She was frustrated and aroused; not a safe combination.

She finished her second bottle and had waved for her third when Tony resurfaced from the land of imaginary kinky acts. He had struck his foot against the wall of the bar as he swung it violently, the only safe way of his body diminishing the pressure his theoretical arousal put on him. He glared at it, reprimanding it for taking him out of Ziva's hot body, before turning to the fully clothed Ziva seated beside him. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it again as he realised that she knew exactly what he had been thinking about, although perhaps not all the details. He gulped his beer down and watched her in alarm when she requested her fourth bottle.

'Ziva,' he reminded her. 'We are working. You can't get drunk.'

A look of horror swept across her face but she regained her composure and shrugged. 'I don't get drunk on four bottles,' she informed him haughtily. 'I am not like you.'

He looked sheepishly at his lonely bottle and fell silent. She downed her final beer quickly and they got up to go. Ziva swept out of the room and Tony made to follow her but paused in the doorway and turned back.

'How much?' he asked the bartender.

'Thirty,' the man croaked.

Tony pulled out his wallet and counted his notes. He handed the man three tens and replaced his wallet. Gibbs never needed to know how much Ziva drank.


	3. Sex On The Dressing Table

Tony sat on the edge of the bed wearing only a thin t-shirt and a pair of white boxer shorts. He was listening to the sound of rustling clothes in the bathroom as Ziva changed. His face was calm but his insides were bubbling with unprecedented anticipation. He had not been expecting such a violent reaction to the simple question of what Ziva was going to be wearing to bed.

He did not have to wait long for the rustling stopped and the door opened slowly. A tanned leg appeared followed by a slender body. Ziva stood in the doorway regarding Tony's stunned expression. She was scantily clad in an oversized shirt and lace panties and nothing else. Her hair roamed in tight curls around her shoulders and swung from side to side as she made her way slowly over to the bed. She smiled placidly at Tony before sitting beside him.

He racked his brains for something witty to say but came up empty. Fortunately for him, his phone rang before the silence became noticeable. 'Tony,' he announced.

'We have found a likely suspect,' Gibbs explained shortly. 'He is the stock, balding man in the room next door.'

Tony's eyes went involuntarily to the wall behind him. 'What do you want us to do?' he asked.

'Keep your voice down,' Gibbs told him. 'And make sure he doesn't suspect anything.'

Tony nodded then realised Gibbs couldn't see him. 'Sure.'

'I will call you in the morning with a plan. So be ready.' He paused. 'Did you hear that, DiNozzo? Be ready.' Without waiting for a reply, he hung up.

Tony turned to Ziva, a cheesy grin plastered across his face.

'What did he say?' she asked impatiently.

'The suspect is in that room,' he indicated with his thumb. 'So we have to be very realistic as a young couple.'

Ziva shut her eyes, dreading his next words. Or at least, pretending to.

'And, Ziva, what do young couples in love do?' He beamed widely at her. 'And don't say kill each other,' he added hastily at the murderous look in her eyes. He waited for an answer but gave up, sensing that the icy glare she was directing at him was the only reply he could hope for. 'They have sex,' he concluded.

'Not always,' Ziva protested half heartedly. Tony picked up on her lack of resistance, despite her unenthusiastic response, and frowned.

'We want to be extra realistic,' he argued before turning his back on her decisively.

'I'm on top,' Ziva called after him as he made his way into the bathroom to finally take his postponed shower.

'Whatever,' he answered over the gush of water.

Ziva stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure what to do. Her eyes swivelled around the room, surveying her options, before coming to rest on the cold glass of the dressing table.

Her mind still hadn't recovered from the beginning of the potentially steamy fantasy in the bar and the flat surface seemed to taunt her and draw her in until her hand was hovering tentatively above it. She lowered it, trembling with anticipation, and she gasped as her hand hit the cold glass. Her eyes closed and the gushing water evaporated.

She could feel Tony's strong hands around her waist, his tongue in her ear. She swayed into his hips and they began to grind against each other. Her stomach was pressed tightly against the table and she could feel his growing erection pushing into her leg.

His hands slowly graduated from her hips to her breasts and he massaged them with his practised fingers. She mumbled something unintelligible and her hands rose to her head before reaching behind and raking her fingers through his hair. His breath moved from her scalp to her cheek and then his lips were fumbling their way along her soft cheek to her lips. They found their target and her body moved around to face him full on, stretching up to stare into his eyes as they tried to get the best hold on the other's lips.

The intensity of the moment consumed her and the writhing and breathlessness of the sex whirled past her in a blur. She was left with a single shiver as she prised herself off the warm glass surface now sticky with sweat and exposed her naked body to the chilly air of the room.

She pulled up hand quickly off the glass and stared at it, the images she had conjured up stark in her mind. Her passionate embrace, however imagined, terrified her because of the ease with which the thoughts came to her and the clarity of the feeling his body created against hers. If he charged out of the bathroom naked and dripping and scooped her up in his arms and flung her onto the bed and tore off her clothes and bore down on her and screamed her name... She broke off again and tried to focus her charged mind on something more benign than rough sex with her partner.

She was avidly watching the small television when Tony emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and dripping water onto the carpet. Her eyes refused to move from the flickering screen and remained fixated on the unfolding fictional story. He smiled, her determination resembling his own when he became enraptured by a movie. Without bothering to dress, he seated himself next to her and his eyes followed hers. Children's characters were prancing around, yelling happily and tiny music was blaring out in the background. His attention returned to her stony expression and he peered into her eyes, trying to make out what was going on behind the uncharacteristic fascination in a cartoon. Her eyes were guarded and he could not begin to fathom what she was thinking and why she was feigning concentration on something he would never believe.

He shifted along so that his shoulder was touching hers. 'Hey,' he nudged. 'What are you watching?' His voice was fighting to stay natural and not become soft and probing which would immediately shut down any confiding she might do.

She turned to him, removing her eyes reluctantly from the screen. 'I'm not quite sure,' she replied evenly.

'You don't know?' he asked. 'How long have you been watching?'

'Not long.' Her tone strongly suggesting that he should drop the inquiry.

'Why are you watching it?' He continued regardless, knowing her too well to allow her confusing actions to pass unquestioned and trusting their relationship to survive a small conflict of opinion.

'I was waiting for you. You took ages in there,' she accused. 'I hope you left some for me or you won't be getting any sex tonight,' she added louder.

He winced at the slight possibility that her words could be heard in the next room. 'If you are so worried, maybe you should wait until after we have sex so that you wouldn't be needing hot water anyway.' He noticed her puzzled look and explained further as if to a child. 'Our sex will get so dirty that you will need a cold shower afterwards.'

'I will need a shower, yes,' she agreed. 'But not a cold shower. I will just need a long, cleansing shower.' She smiled sweetly at his scowling face.

'Shall we begin then?' he invited, gesturing towards the bed.

She eyed him warily before delving into her bag to retrieve some deodorant which she placed meaningfully on his bedside table. His scowl deepened but she had already swept into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, wondering what emotions would be conjured up by the forthcoming night of 'pretend' sex. She had no way of knowing how he would want the show to progress and she couldn't draw from past experience because the situation had changed somewhat over the years. Although, judging by the innuendos he was throwing through the closed door, he had some heavy ideas roaming about in his head. Perhaps, tonight they would get to live out some of their fantasies. Or, maybe not. Only time would tell and she couldn't put it off any more.

'Coming,' she reassured his enthusiastic calls before living up to her words and reappearing in the bedroom. A hesitant, somewhat embarrassed smile came to her lips at the sight of Tony sprawled leisurely on the bed, waiting for her to join him. She gulped and took the first step towards the alluring invitation.

**Any ideas of other places for sex, or thoughts on where the next chapter should go would be useful. I'm kind of stumped.**


	4. Sex Against The Headboard

Tony gulped as he begged his erection not to reveal itself to the cause of its excitement. Ziva seemed oblivious to her ravishing beauty which both added to her appeal and made her harder to approach with a proposition.

Her hair was cascading in tight ringlets over her shoulders and down her bare back. The exotic skin was flawless and shimmering in the dim light from the cheap bulb. Her lips were parted curiously as her bright eyes darted about the room, landing everywhere but on him. Her toned legs were unusually on display, and the rippling muscles beneath the soft skin made him hot, breathless and hard.

She glided across the room and flung herself backwards onto the lumpy mattress, the metal spring prodding her back and making her gasp. The sharp exhalation scared Tony and he twisted his body to see what had happened. A smile fluttered across her mouth to reassure him and he grinned back, his eyes widening and his cheeks flushed. His hand ghosted across her delicate skin as he drew the curtain of hair off her face. The ticklish trail his finger left tingled and she clenched her teeth to prevent another gasp escaping her lips.

Although she appreciated privacy and was a naturally secretive person, she could be quite frank about her sex life at times, and she had let slip some hefty clues as to her preferences. Tony's mind was frantically trying to recall the pertinent details of past conversations in order to make the night enjoyable and as exciting for her as it would inevitably be for him.

'Ready?' Her sultry voice broke into his whirling mind and all the cogs stopped instantly at the mesmerising sound.

'Uh huh,' His throat was dry and he could only muster a choked grunt to convey his answer. He swallowed and nodded, careful not to let his eagerness show.

'Okay,' she acknowledged softly.

He sat up and moved towards the headboard. She looked at him questioningly. He jerked his thumb towards the wall separating them from the likely serial killer in the adjoining bedroom. She nodded, her face frozen in the porcelain look of resignation, but underneath her spirits had fallen at the reminder of the reason they were doing this. Her lips longed to escape their forced unreadable line and pout like a spoilt child but she would not let her feelings show. This was to be business and a pleasureless show to fool a murderer. She was still repeating that mantra to herself when a strong arm snaked around her waist and pulled her backwards.

Her hair spread wildly across his face and a few strands slipped into her mouth. They tasted like blackberries and chestnuts. He knew Ziva would not appreciate him licking her hair but his arms refused to leave her warm skin to take the silky hair from his wet mouth so he moaned and settled into the embrace.

She felt safe in his arms, which was a peculiar feeling because she felt safe with no one to protect her but her fists. His masculine presence reassured her even when she required no assurance. She could take care of herself but it was always nice to have someone else ready to protect you. She furrowed deeper into the crook of his arm.

They lay there in silence, the hot breath swirling above their faces in the chilly air of the unheated room. They could have stayed like that all night and not become bored or uncomfortable but despite their clear minds, the knowledge of their duty to pretend noisy sex was weighing down on the carefree hug.

Tony was the first to shift and break the companionable atmosphere. He propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at her, wistfully watching her nestled into the duvet. She opened one eye lazily and stared back at him. She sighed and opened both eyes fully, waiting for him to allow her to sit up. He released her from his grip and was immediately startled by a ferocious kick at the headboard. His mouth fell open and he raised his eyebrows.

She smirked and let out a comical moan before emitting a series of laboured grunts. He realised what she was doing and joined in, lashing out at the wall with his feet and bouncing up and down on the bed, the creaky springs groaning under the weight. Ziva grinned at the childish abandon with which he approached their task and turned her laughter into shrieks of elation. Determined to outdo her, Tony began to pant loudly and his grinding speeded up so that the bed sounded as if it were about to collapse. Ziva narrowed her eyes and let her competitive streak take over. She howled and began to scream Tony's name. Tony's face lit up at the sound of his name coming from his beautiful partner with such passionate force.

Her yells were stifled as she turned to him, eyes sparkling, and realised that his loosely wrapped towel had fallen off with the speed of his gyrations. He had nothing on underneath so he was now completely exposed. She gulped and looked down at herself, her baggy t-shirt finishing above her waist leaving her seductive panties preserving her modesty. She considered reminding him that the suspect could not see them and, if he had been able to, their cover would have been blown by their exaggerated intimation of sex, but decided not to; the view being quite pleasant and justifiable under the circumstances.

The sparseness of the noises alerting him to the end of their short-lived sexual games, he stopped grunting comically and turned to her. Seeing him stop the pretence, she regained her composure and grinned at him, resuming her previous moan of ecstasy.

Satisfied with her response, he rolled on top of her, unaware of his nakedness, and layered her neck with kisses. Her moans increased in both volume and intensity and, spurred on by the positive reaction, he moved his attentions further south.

Ziva's moans petered out and became shaky breaths as her pleasure became real and not absurdly magnified. Her neck arched backwards and her stomach was raised off the bed, her t-shirt falling down to her breasts. His lips graced her torso before reaching the lace of her panties. He hesitated, waiting for a sign from her, but she seemed to be waiting for his decision as to how far they took it.

His mind flashed back and skimmed through images of her, both real and imagined. He could see her lounging naked on his desk, he could hear her voice coming throatily from the phone uttering sensuous threats, he was gazing down at her bikini clad body, he was fingering photos of her during his exile to the ship, he was running his hands up and down her wet body in the shower, he was merciless under her vicelike grip on the bar top, he could smell her as she massaged his back on a hotel bed.

The images disappeared and reality swam in front of his eyes. The possibilities of his actions dawned on him; both the delightful romp and the complex consequences. Her body was tense beneath him, frozen as she waited for his decision. Once he had made his decision, it would be impossible to look back, you could not take back rejection nor could you undo the taste of your colleague's wetness. He took the plunge and delved his fingers underneath the lacy fabric. It was decided and done within the space of a second. The longest second they would ever endure.

**The next chapter will be about their actual sex and I will maybe throw in a few more fantasies for an epilogue.**


	5. Sex On Top of Tony

**I have been preoccupied with my other stories but I will rekindle this one – I hope you think that it is worth continuing. I started this chapter ages ago but left it unfinished so I hope it isn't disjointed.**

His finger was working hard but his eyes were fixed on Ziva's face. He needed to gauge her expression to work out if this was being enjoyed. He decided that it was, due to the lopsided grin slapped onto her face and her eyes lit up with the kind of brightness often found in squirrels.

His mouth met hers and his eyes closed. No longer did he have to worry about his love being reciprocated. From the energy she was throwing into her passionate kiss, he deduced that she was feeling the love right back at him.

Their legs entangled, writhing on the bed, twisting the sheets between their sweaty thighs. His hands were running through her hair, teasing out the curls; stroking her cheek with a gentle, caressing touch; cupping her butt; flicking and squeezing her nipples with her whole breast in his palm; pressing into the small of her back, pushing her into him as his lips nipped at her neck.

She moaned in delight, her senses erupting in a mushroom cloud of nuclear joy. Her nose was tingling from the masculine aroma of his aftershave, her tongue was lapping up his taste from his sweating shoulders, her ears were burning from the explicit murmurs pouring into them from Tony's filthy mouth, her eyes were enjoying the view more than she had ever expected, and her hands were laid on his torso revelling in the soft muscular toned skin beneath her inquisitive hands.

Their fantasies had not even come close to the unexpected reality. Tony was firmer than predicted and Ziva was gentler, less aggressive than her past would lead you to believe. Their techniques melded perfectly and their touch was sweeter than they had ever experienced.

A phone was ringing in the background but neither registered the metallic vibrations. It was just background noise to the louder sounds of their yelps and groans.

Ziva flipped Tony onto his back and planted kisses on his cheeks, affectionately smiling after every chaste embrace. She stuck her tongue in his ear and ran it round the lobe. Her hand made its way down to his bared manhood and wrapped her fingers around it, clamping it firmly in her palm.

He ducked down and its tip disappeared into her mouth. She moaned gutturally and sucked gently, moving her mouth deeper and deeper. His hands pressed down on the top of her head, telling her all she needed to know about his enjoyment.

Her tongue flicked his tip and he grunted oafishly with pleasure. She surfaced, gasping for breath. Her fingers found his shaft and she moved her face sideways slightly, kissing his balls tenderly.

She raised her head, looking up at his face. His eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly open.

Her eyes glinted and she flipped him onto his back, climbing on top of him. She lowered herself onto him, guiding his penis into her. She smiled with erotic joy as he penetrated her. She knelt over him, her thighs straddling his waist, her feet curled under his knees.

She leant forward, clutching at the sheets to release some of the tension building up inside her as her thoughts ran rampant anticipating the impending sex. He opened his eyes and reached up, craning his neck to kiss her. She squeezed her butt happily and tilted her pelvis to push herself deeper onto him. With her lips pressed tightly against his, her hips moved in tight circles, breathing shallowly from the excitement.

She gained momentum and soon she was riding him buckaroo style, moaning and grunting. His neck tilted back and his back arched, his chest glancing her breasts. Her cries grew louder and louder until finally peaking into a scream as she climaxed.

He roared along with her shriek and the sound was continued until both of them ran out of breath and energy. Ziva flopped down on top of his heaving chest, a satisfied smile on her face. He grinned impishly at her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her lips gently.

His eyes closed and his neck fell back on the pillow. She glanced up at him, listening for the grunts of sleep. He smiled placidly at her before his mouth relaxed and he began to snore softly. She nestled into him, neglecting to roll off him or dress. Her eyes shut and she fell into a light sleep on top of him.

**It's a bit shorter than normal but I have already written two 1,000 word sex scenes today so almost 800 words is rather a good number, I think.**


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